Yesterday, my friend Heather posted something like this on Facebook: "I think it's important to recognize and celebrate the little accomplishments in life. Today I am proud that I woke up early and hit the ground running. What achievement can you celebrate today?"

I've been working on the same illustration in my journal for the past week or so, the one above, and felt like seeing this post was kismet (also: do I not have great friends?). And I agree with her; celebrating all the little things is important!

Since posting my story last week, I have been blessed and humbled by all the messages I've received -- from friends and readers and newcomers to this blog. When I posted it, I felt scared. There's a lot of personal stuff in there, and not all good you know. I was afraid of negative thoughts and reactions. I met up with friends that evening, so I wasn't just sitting at home waiting for replies. In fact, I felt the need to just...fade to the background and hold space for whatever would happen next.

But something else happened the moment I pressed publish: I felt free. There's a little collage above my desk that I made awhile ago that says, "And now I'm free." My father came over a couple of weeks ago and saw it and I swear he got choked up a bit and said, "That's good, Sam, that's really good." Now, this is a man not known for huge outbursts of emotion, but who's been softened by the passing of his wife and best friend of almost 40 years. In that moment, I felt like he got it: got why I had to move out, why I needed space for awhile, why I'm doing all this.

One of my favorite songs says, "I never knew what freedom was until I learned what prison means." And it's so true. We all construct prisons around ourselves, limiting beliefs or ways we think the world are. We construct these walls with the fear of the unknown and complain when we can't see the sun anymore. I certainly built my own over the years, and now, with each day, I'm joyful because I'm living. Not just surviving, not just going from moment to moment, but living a full life of family, friends, work, play.

At work yesterday, I found myself saying, "I really am enjoying this [organizing the shoe department at Target; it took 8 hours]! I spent so many years not being able to do things, I'm just happy to be up and out and doing this. It doesn't really matter what it is!"

And that's the truth. When it comes down to it, I'm so full of joy I could burst. And yes, there's still the sharp pang of loss and sadness, but I've found that both can exist in the same space. I can hold them both. I can be both happy and fearful. That doesn't mean that I only have joy in one space in my life and sadness in the other. But that they drive each other. Lend perspective. Allow me to know how deep each goes.

So was my six month anniversary a huge victory? To me, yes. Maybe not to others. Except you've shown me that there's great power in sharing your story and making your victory something that can help others.

One question I got was about how to find joy in living with fibromyalgia or a chronic illness. It's so hard to find happiness when you're falling deeper and deeper into a depression. And I'm not going to sugarcoat it -- it fucking sucks. It does. I'm not going to try to lend platitudes or positive affirmations. In sharing my story I've found strength in speaking my truth. So here's a little advice.

1. It's going to suck. I know it does. It's going to be doctors' appointments and medication and sleep schedules and couch/bed days. You're going to be in pain or be limited and wish you could do something, wish your body would just cooperate for once. I know. I get it. But it'll get better. Not easier, but better. I say this as someone who lived her whole life in that swirling mess of UGH and thought I'd never get out of it, but did. I did. And I had like, no hope it would happen (hence my joy at doing even the littlest things). Give it time. Know someone's gotten halfway out of that suckiness. Email me. Message me. If I don't answer, I'm asleep (I do have my own days of low energy, so know I read things right away but may take a little time to reply).

Do some doodling in you art journal. Smoosh paint around with your hands. Write swears in big strokes of marker or pen and vent all that frustration and anger and sadness. It'll feel good to get it out. And you can then transform your page/spread into something beautiful. Because you are beautiful, broken bits and all.

2. Celebrate every little thing. Did you get out of bed today? Make some lunch? Run an errand? I know we're taught that these are things "normal" people do, but I've learned that most of the normal people out there are struggling just like you. Go to Target and get some star stickers and give yourself a star each time you accomplish something. Some days, getting from your bed to the couch can leave you gasping -- give yourself a gold star. Celebrate it and fuck what society says. You got to the couch today. You went to your kid's soccer game. You made it to the grocery store. Every little thing -- get a star. Put them where you can see them, so on the bad days, the really bad, awful days, you can look up at the board or wall or poster and see that you can do so much. And have.

And know there will be good days again.

I leave you with more pictures of art, because I know you like looking at pretty things other people have made (I know I do!). I've been drawing with pen lately, which means I'm getting more done. Not being able to erase is fun, and when you can draw things you like with pen, you gain a little bit of artsy confidence. Is that a thing? I think it is. The more we play and create, the more confident we become in what we can do.

This page took about a week do to, simply because I was working on it bit by bit. I started by drawing with a Derwent Graphik pen in graphite since it's softer and blends well with my markers.

At first I didn't like these pens, but now I do. But can I get a .7 please? Pretty please Derwent?

When I finished the drawing, I pulled out my warm gray Copics: W1, W3, & W7. After a bit, I noticed that the W7 was a bit too dark, so I did some parts with a PITT marker, #273. You can see on the facing page where I tested grays and other colors to see what would work well together.

So I started shading. I may record a little bit of me shading my current drawing since I've been asked to share that with you. I just like how it gives the flowers some dimension.

Can you tell this was taken at work? Gotta love cheap break room tables. And yes, this is what I do on my breaks.

Next, I colored it in with my Copics. I wanted to keep it harmonious so I limited how many colors I used. I think it helps to make it more cohesive.

Now you may be wondering, "Samie, why did you spend all that time shading with gray if you were just going to color over it?" Well, friend, it's because I like how the color over that layer has a few different tones. I could have shaded with other shades in the color's family, but this does a better job. I wanted to approach it like working with watercolors - layers of transparent media to achieve depth.

When I finished coloring, I thought what if the flowers were outlined in white? So I did that. This is my art journal, after all, so I have to experiment to learn new things. And I love how they look outlined in white. And the letters outlined in white and black.

(And at the very end, I added glitter to the flowers and OMG do they look cool in real life!)

AND! I scanned this before I colored it, so if you'd like to color your own, feel free to download it! I hope it brings you some calm and subtle happiness. And, as always, I'd love to see what you make. Post 'em to my Facebook page so I can share them!

This is a long and personal story, but one I feel compelled to share in case I can help someone else...

Today I am celebrating. And I'm not hiding why, and find that I'm not supposed to. I've met someone who went through a similar experience, and another, who, after I told her, said they love when people are honest about their feelings and struggles.

And then she gave me the wifi password and said, "Here you go so you can get that story out there."

So here it goes.

---

Six months ago, I really didn't want to live anymore.

My depression had been getting worse since early fall, and I tried hard to keep my head above water. I could feel the crushing weight on my shoulders and through my lungs as I gasped for breath. I became more and more isolated - from friends and art and family. I wore my pajamas for days at a time.

Every so often I'd have a good day, and think things were finally getting better.

And then, in November, life began to crash off the wheels.

When I made a joke about the suicidal thoughts I was having to a cop, I was taken seriously (thank you!).

Instead of jumping in front of a train that day, I went to the city's emergency room for mental health and spent the night.

--

I promised I'd be back, but there was always a reason why I couldn't. Thanksgiving was in a few days. We were moving. My family needed me around for the holidays. Mom wasn't well.

I stopped doing art.

I remember lots of errands run through horrible pain. I remember nights when I cried myself to sleep and mornings when I'd throw on dirty clothes so I could get stuff done.

I remember Mom making comments that sounded eerily close to mine and called for help.

She was in for three days before my Dad, brother, and I were in a major car accident and rushed to the nearest ER.

---

We tried to get back into daily life. My shoulder hurt so bad, the pain traveled down my arm, and I couldn't hold a pencil. The three of us had terrible headaches from whiplash (I later learned my entire neck was messed up and I had Severe whiplash).

And then I ran out of oxy.

--

I was started on Tylenol #3 when I was eighteen years old.

Fibromyalgia is a tricky kind of disease. It doesn't present the same way twice. There are criteria, sure, but our bodies fight against themselves in wholly unique ways - what works for one won't necessarily work for others (unlike the world in Lyrica commercials).

But one thing doctors throw at Fibromyalgia patients is painkillers.

There are a whole host of other diseases going on in this body of mine, co-morbid conditions that present at the same time. Illnesses such as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and arthritis. Our bodies are sensitive to the world and, some nights, the gust of air from when the AC kicks in at night makes every nerve light up in pain, engulfing me in a fire that is rarely put out.

The important facts are this: my entire body hurts 24/7. In fact, I don't have a memory of how it feels to NOT be in pain. It's what I know. My system is easily overstimulated, so I wear headphones a lot to block out the sounds of life. The arthritis in my hip is bad enough that I limp on occasion, and my shoulder is a hotbed of agony that is only getting worse - this is the shoulder hurt in the car accident.

When there's so much going on in your body, it's hard to concentrate or do even the simplest tasks. You spend a lot of time in bed or on the couch, and even then, you know the pain is there. It never goes away, only lessens.

And after 15 years of this, I've learned to filter a lot out, smile through it all, and take my meds.

--

When you're a chronic pain patient, you become aware of a lot of conditions put upon getting your medications. And when I was in that car accident, the doctor gave me a few day's worth of painkillers and then told me to take my regular prescription.

Except the pain from the accident was worse, and so I asked my doctor what I should do.

He told me the same thing.

I've been on these medications for 15 years. I'm careful. I take exactly what I'm prescribed and only take extra when the circumstances call for it. Which is included on the bottle.

I'd only been on oxy for six months and never ran out. I had previously been on Vicodin, and never experienced withdrawn symptoms when I went a couple days without it (oh those wonderful days of less pain!). So I thought this will be fine.

It was not fine. Not even remotely. Oxy is purified Heroin and I just decided to detox at home with no help.

God help me, that was the most pain and deepest misery I've ever experienced. And I pray I never have to go through that again.

---

Halfway through, the pain, which is a magnification of the fibromyalgia pain, got so bad I wanted to die. I could do nothing but listen to music, curl up in bed, and cry. There's an edge to pain, to human experience, when you realize there is nothing you can do. There is absolutely nothing to be done; this pain is going to happen and you just suffer through it.

You have a moment of clarity when you realize I wish I could die but know this won't kill me.

I wanted it to. I craved an escape from the misery.

I also knew I never wanted to go through this ever again. And in order to do that, I had to never start taking the painkillers again.

That was my first good decision - to live a life free of these toxic drugs.

---

Tangie is the one who convinced me I needed to go to the ER to get help.

In a conversation I'll never forget, she laid down the hard truths and was willing to sacrifice our friendship to help save me. I was so far down, both in the depression and withdrawal, that I didn't know how messed up I'd been.

I've lost so many friendships to all this, put people through difficult conversations, and posted way too many needy & depressed posts to Facebook.

And when I tried to back out, she helped convince me to follow through.

---

That was the second good decision: I don't want my life to look like this anymore, so I need to get help.

---

Six months ago today, I decided to live. To walk into the ER and say, "I'm having suicidal ideations and need help."

I told them I needed help to know if the medications I'd been on were necessary. I told them to not give me any benzos (as I'd been on way too much Ambien) and only the painkillers the doctor thought I needed.

Was it hard? Hell yes it was. Some nights, I barely got to sleep before four am. I hit the mattress of the small ward bed with clenched fists when the pain began to swallow me in its all-consuming fire. I found it hard to walk with my aching hip.

But I was alive.

I learned the basics and translated them into real life situations. I made friends and did activities, getting stronger and feeling less pain as the days passed.

And then, on the morning of my mother's 55th birthday, I called home to wish her a happy day when my father told me she'd passed away the night before.

I lost it.

---

I'm crying as I write this. Nearly six months later and I'm still crying every day. Grief begins to dissipate with time, but can sock you right in the solar plexus at the most random of times.

It can be a song, or s thought, a memory, or a photograph. It can be a movie we loved to watch together. An accomplishment I wish I could share with her.

But I also have this one memory that comes up to the surface the most.

Our dryer had broken and needed to be replaced, but we didn't have the money right then. I decided to wash my clothes at home, throw them in a basket, and take them to the local Laundromat to dry.

One day, she came with me. We put our clothes in dryers next to each other and sat down to wait. Music played on tired, wore speakers; all the songs were older, playing on a classic rock station that had probably been playing in that place for decades.

But when one song came on - and how I wish I remembered what song it was! -- Mom smiled and grabbed my hands, pulling me from my seat so I could dance with her.

Laughing, we danced around that bland, run down laundromat, and didn't give a single fuck what other people thought.

---

There is so much more to this story. Like how I left home that same week and ended up bouncing from house to house until I found a place of my own to rent (and my odd roommates who I never see). Or the car I got lucky on from Craig's List. There's the new job at Target and the bills all in my name. The laughter and friendships and magic I experience every day.

Through losing her life, Mom saved mine.

---

I go to therapy twice a month, where I babble to a nice guy named M who has an Adipose on his desk and blinds that can't close.

After my system cleared out, we discovered I have a ton of social anxiety and a fair amount of depression hanging out in my head. It explains a lot of my behaviors and tendencies to make myself look like an idiot and then think about how everyone must agree that I'm an idiot and then OMG my thoughts spiral and never stop and wow no wonder I can't sleep.

By getting the right medications, combined with coping skills & talk therapy, I've been able to live with both of these conditions pretty well. That isn't to say I don't have bad days - I do - but that I'm recognizing what those bad days mean - that my brain chemistry is a little off and depression is a liar. Usually things get better the next day, or after I communicate clearly about what's making me anxious.

I also learned this truth, when I disappeared to the hospital and no one could get ahold of me: if I were to die, or just disappear from the world, there are people who would notice, and do their best to find and help, in whatever way they can.

In two hours, I'm meeting some of them for dinner. So I can tell them thank you.

In fact, the last time I spoke to my mom, it was on Heather's cell phone.

--

There are so many days when we feel alone in this world, that no one can understand us, or would want to even try. We see the lives of friends and wonder why we can't do that, or be that happy, or even TRY to be happy. There are limitations we put on ourselves because drastic change is fucking scary and makes most people run in the opposite direction.

Those two decisions I made significantly altered my life. And altered it for the better.

The truth of it is, we're not alone. We may isolate ourselves or push others away, but this fight, it isn't just ours alone. There are so many of us out in the world fighting the same battles - battles of life and death, battles that some people lose.

And that sucks. And we miss them. But that doesn't mean we give up the fight. I think it makes us stronger. When your life crumbles under your feet, when you have to build up from nothing, we learn we're capable of so much more than we think. The walls around you CAN crumble and fall and let the sunlight back in. There will be clouds and rain, but there will also be birdsong and the colors of flowers and a dog who wants a hug.

A few months ago, I wrote about how we can make our lives a wonderful adventure.

Consider these converse my safari boots, because I'm ready to make each day beautiful, wonderful, and full of adventure.

Just you watch me.

--

You are not alone. You can do this. You have already been through so much; your scars are deep and your fear palpable. But don't give up. Don't let fear and sadness keep you from seeing how wonderful life can be.

That is in the past. You're ready for NOW. For today. For every moment of sweet, sweet breath you almost didn't get the chance to take.

One day you're going to wake up to one of your favorite songs playing through your headphones and breathe. A deep, clean breath instead of the short pants of trying to keep your head above water. That breath goes deep, lungs expanding fully, body tingling with the return of oxygen. The fog is beginning to lift, the water calming, your feet finally under you upon solid ground.

Passion returns, filling the gaps in your days. Stolen moments, late nights, pens dropped along the bedside as you fall asleep -- fall asleep when you'd want nothing more than to stay awake and create. Early mornings when you used to crave sleep, crave that escape from a life that, at times, still feels odd, like visiting a foreign country that speaks the same language as you. Off, but in some intangible way. You can navigate, and understand what people are saying, but are missing those familiar touchstones of home.

But home is in the music you listen to and the friends around you and the things passed down from mother to daughter. It's in your loud laughter and sarcasm and delight at developing a new skill. It's the small messages that make a big impact. In the eyes of your dog and the hugs of your family and how you still have that hole in your heart, a hole that can never be filled (but oh, have you tried to fill it with cookies and sweets and bad TV) but isn't the night sky full of them? Full of gaps and foreign lands and darkness?

No. It's full of light. Light we see because of the darkness.

And as the clouds clear and the fog lifts, you take a pen in hand and find your passion again and oh, oh how you've missed it.

Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life.

Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair. - Walt Whitman

Copic markers, multilines, and white gelli roll pen. Doodled in church, spell-corrected with help from friends.

Ever since I first heard this song back in March, it's been on heavy rotation when I listen to music.

Taking back your life is complicated and messy and full of tears. There are sleepless nights and long days and deep digging to figure out who you are underneath it all. There's clarity and a wellspring of joy you never thought could happen again. With all that is going on, a new life swirling around you, well - one day you'll be enjoying yourself and let out those little giggles of pure happiness and realize you are living. All that was working against you, all you did against yourself, it disappears and you realize that you're finally seeing the sun again - and it's brilliant.

There's a decision I've been struggling with for a week, now. I've journaled and chatted and pondered and realize I've been stalling. Wanting someone else to force my hand. Fighting against the anxiety that roars over the woosh of blood pounding in my ears.

That's when we need a fight song more than ever.

I'm taking the rest of 2015 off as a sabbatical.

Now don't worry, my dear reader - I'm still going to be all over social media and blogging each week. But I won't be offering any new classes, or making any commitments. I need the break. With all the inner work I've been doing, I want to have the freedom to explore in my journals and art without having to worry about creating to pay the bills. I want to be free to make stuff and not worry about how I can use it to propel my business forward.

Part of me is terrified. That I'll be forgotten. That people will move on. That publishers won't be interested. But I have to do it. I have to take all this internal pressure off myself to do, do, do! I work, I come home, I relax. I paint and draw and read. And for now, as I'm still learning to navigate this new inner terrain, that will have to be enough.

I have three more blog posts in various states of done-ness, so I'm going to stop here and save the rest for another day. If you've made it this far, thank you for being here. Every time I get a comment, here or on FB/Instagram, I smile. I'm reminded why I started sharing stuff in the first place.

I wrote this late last night, compelled to record my thoughts. I want to do that more. Get ahead of my anxiety and unafraid to post words & art that are less than perfect.

It's 12:30am and I'm thinking about bravery.

Until this year, I thought I knew what bravery meant. I always pictured that scene from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade where he took a leap (or step) of faith. I always thought it was kinda obvious, a trick of perspective, or maybe it was the kind of magic that only happened in movies.

Brave is doing the hard thing. Is being your authentic self. Is going out and taking the world by storm. Brave has become a buzz word uttered by women who found themselves and want to help the rest of us. It's where we want to go with our art and our lives. It's a constant quest, a striving to be more.

But I never understood the journey that brings you to that place. How bravery is really about being terrified but persevering through the fear. It's standing on the edge of your life, of everything you know, and walking away. The path before you is a faint line in the ashes of all you know and there's about ten feet of visibility. Anything past that is in a thick fog rolling in from the east that leaves you damp and cold as you walk. Birdsong and crickets and nocturnal critters scurry around in that inky black of a new moon's night and oh, yeah, you can barely make out the stars above.

I never fully respected the phoenix that rises from ashes. Never realized how hard it is to pull yourself back together after your life has vanished. There's little bedrock to start from and no building materials. There is the next step, the next pile to turn into brilliant feathers. There are fears to face and a steely determination that gets you through it. It's everyone telling you how strong you are when all you want to do is break apart.

Bravery isn't a sprint, it's a marathon. And it never ends. Being brave means facing all your fears and limiting beliefs and running anyway. It's hard and messy and leaves you gasping for breath. Bravery is doing what needs to be done no matter how tired you are or how terrible you look without make up or how much you don't think you can do it. You have to do it.

Bravery is realizing there isn't really a choice - you can't turn around and go back but you can't stay here.

So, like Indiana Jones, you close your eyes, clutch your truth to your chest, and go for it.

A few weeks ago, I started having dizzy spells, a racing heartbeat, and chest pains. And as the daughter of a man who had heart surgery in his thirties (as well as having all four grandparents die of heart-related things), I was Freaking Out. I ended up getting an EKG and seeing a few doctors; things have cleared up since then, and I may be persuaded I was just having Epic Panic Attacks, if not for the head rush and dizziness that comes when I stand up.

Getting that piece of paper that showed a strong and steady heartbeat helped quell most of my fears. There are deeper things at work, here, just like life. There are layers. And mysteries. And you can't let either of those things keep you from filling your living moments with anything short of steady calmness and positivity.

While working on this spread, I came across the word énouement:

The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

And yes, it IS misspelled in my journal!

I thought about all the fear and worry and self-doubt I had. About how I felt like my art was silly or just bad, about how I let my fear of imagined pain keep me from even trying at times. About my uncertain future and days wasted on rest. About those ten years I spent in and out of bed, measuring myself against "normal" instead of just trying to do my best. How scared I was, how petrified I was. How I was (am) plagued with anxiety.

How I wish I could travel back in time and gather that scared and shattered girl into my arms and tell her it would be okay. That it wouldn't be easy, but it would be okay. That she is so, so much capable than she thinks. That there's a deep well of inner strength. That it's okay to cry and feel and be. I hope, in whatever way time truly travels, that I can write these words and feel them in the past.

I think of all the turmoil I've gone through in the past five months and then look at that strong & steady heartbeat - on I very nearly extinguished - and think yeah, it sucked, but I'm still here.

I am. I lived through it. And every day, yes, I have to wrestle with my anxiety to get it under control, push through it to go to work and not think people are talking about me or think (insert blank here) about me. I go to therapy. I take medication. Is it easy? No! But is it worth it? I think so.

There is so much more I want to write about, but I'm out of time. Work starts in an hour. Maybe I'll stop procrastinating/being afraid to write a blog post (because I'm sure all the things I want to say come out stilted -- not really, but this is what I push through!) and share more tomorrow. I want to write every day. I want to draw and paint and laugh with co-workers and hang out with friends and volunteer and go to church and pet my dogs and hug my family and live.

Finding a work/life balance has been a bit tricky for me - my body hasn't worked retail in about 8 years, so suddenly being on my feet and moving around for 6-8 hours at a time had me sleeping 10 hours a night! Which means there was very little time for art making, unless you count me coloring a little bit in an adult coloring book art!

It seriously bummed me out to see my paint still in boxes, so I took my day off yesterday to set everything up to make sitting down to paint easier.

I happily spent the morning reading and painting before coming in to work; my iPhone makes it easy to blog from the break room!

This week's spread was inspired by, well, life! I sat down yesterday to write in my journal and felt such clarity of purpose - more on that tomorrow! - and I was able to see that I'm just starting on this fresh start...I've been in my little cocoon, growing and shifting, and only recently broke free. It still will take a bit to unfurl my wings (it takes butterflies a bit of time, did you know that?) but they're here and I'm ready to get started.

The lyrics are from 'Unwritten' by Natasha Bedingfield. Seems appropriate, right?

Happy Monday everyone! I'm super psyched to share this week's art journal spread in my Moleskine sketchbook. This one has a TON of layers since I've been adding to it throughout the week (and you can catch progress shots on Instagram!) while working on a couple of paintings. I'm doing some art fairs this year and need to get a stock of finished paintings together. Plus, I'm having a blast. No, really! I look forward to my quiet evenings spent painting and watching Netflix (Arrow has ruined my life, and I'm not even fully caught up!).

This week's quote is:

"You don't need to be better than anyone else. You just need to be better than you used to be." - Wayne Dyer

These words really spoke to me. I'm working hard on becoming a better me, and figuring out what that means. The past five months have been full of spiritual and personal growth, and I've found that having positive quotes/reminders around me help keep me on track.

I've had some people ask about the gold stripes I've been playing with. It's actually tissue paper from Target that my lovely friend Rebecca grabbed and shared. I love it. It goes pretty transparent, but is so shiny & easy to add layers onto!

I'm also in love with my Letraset letters again. I'm going to have to find more soon!

I also wanted to share my supplies. I'm in a temporary place right now, so I only have a limited amount of supplies. Don't think you need lots of fancy stuff to make awesome art journal pages/spreads!

Here's how this spread kinda started. I was working over another one of my gelli print backgrounds, and just making a mess. But when I sat down to play with this, I realized it was really green, and I'm not a huge fan of green. So, what's a girl to do? Add more layers!

Never be afraid to cover something up - it usually leads to something even better! And if you are afraid, take some pictures or scan your spread mid-painting so you have that bit you loved for another page.

I had to keep adding layers until I was happy with it. And happy I am! Here are some detail shots for you. And if you're playing along, tag me on Instagram so I can see what you're up to - #journalgirl

I'm really loving posting spreads from my Moleskine art journal, and thought I'd make it a weekly thing! Each Monday, I'll be sharing a spread from my Moleskine & a little about how it came to be. But first, I wanted to share a little supply info since I've been getting a ton of questions!

The Moleskine I'm using is the Art Plus Sketchbook 5"x8.25". The paper in this one is thicker than the regular paper, and super smooth, making it awesome for sketching, drawing, and a little painting.

I don't gesso the pages before I get to work. I've found that, while this paper doesn't take watercolors or washes very well, it is lovely with acrylics. I usually start with a bit of collage and doodling, and layer acrylic paint and Holbein Acryla gouache. I adore this gouache and mix it in with my acrylic mediums and paints. It dries matte which I just love, and is great for doodling and lettering.

Above: This week's spread started as a Gelli printed background. I "cleaned" my plate on it, picking up the remnants from removed stencils and the last imprints of doodles drawn into the wet paint.

Right: My Moleskine cover. It got some gelli printing on it by accident. The stickers were on purpose. I always cover mine with stickers!

This is a progress shot I shared on Instagram. A lot of the time, I'm just making marks and adding colors, allowing the page to slowly come into focus. I'm really into the Letraset letters (since I found mine - Tangie sells them in her Etsy shop!) and black dots.

During a break from painting, I was playing idly with one of my medication bottles while watching Arrow (I'm late to the party but loving it!) and was surprised at how easily the stickers came off. I collected them (from some old bottles, too!) on the plastic of a library book and used double sided tape to attach them to the page.

I haven't brought in medical stuff for awhile, but it's such a large part of my life. I'm writing from the chiropractor's office, which I visit three times a week. And I need to put that into my journals!

You've gotta know how much I love experimenting with color and layers -- it's like my totally favorite thing. Playing in my Moleskine is a chance for me to play with new color combinations, textures, and marks. And the smaller size (the original size ones) really helps to keep things from getting too scattered or out of control.

Working smaller also gives me the freedom to use gouache since I'm only doing small areas. I just love the buttery smoothness of the acrylic gouache and how it dries matte. There's just something magical about it!

And I added some silver leaf, because a. I found mine, and b. it's just really, really fun!

This spread was so much fun to make. Lots of favorite colors, here, and more of the gold-stripped tissue paper Becca gave me (I just adore the stuff). I ended up mixing a lot of colors while the paint was still wet; the last layers were done with acrylic gouache and some interesting things happened when I played!

But I had paintings. A bunch of them. Some up in my Etsy shop, some in a pile in my studio. And I thought what if I sold the paintings to raise money? I figured it was a win-win -- people could get great art, donate to a cause, and I could clear out some space.

I've been following the news about the earthquake in Nepal, seen pictures of the devastation to not only their cultural landmarks and infrastructure, but the people left adrift, homeless. It breaks my heart, and I wish I could go do something to help.

I'm in the process of moving again, my grand adventure continuing on, and thus don't have any extra money to spare. In fact, I'm living off my inheritance from my mother's passing and trying to make it stretch. Here's a moment of honesty: I don't have any income. There are a couple people in the Inspiration Ink club, but that's it. I'm sure I'll see a tumbleweed breeze through my Etsy shop any moment now.

(And in the past, this would have upset me, made me jaded and sad and wondering what is wrong with what I'm making that I can't make any sales? But now? I'm just applying for part time work & disability & trying very hard to stay positive.)

This past weekend I ran away to the mountains for a little mini-vacation at my friend's beautiful home. Above is the view from her balcony at sunset; aren't those pinks and purples just divine? I often wish my camera could see things the same way my eyes do...frame things as I experience them.

Prescott is about a two hour drive from where I live, and I relished in the opportunity to take my new-to-me car on a little road trip. I loaded Spotify up with music, grabbed a couple snacks, and headed north. Little did I know a small lesson I'd been reaching for would explode in a moment of absolute clarity.

Just look at me, all happy to be out in the desert! It's not all cacti and tumbleweeds, at least not here in central Arizona!

Allow me to give a bit of back story. One of the biggest blocks I've had as of late is to make really bad sketches in my journal. You'd think that would be easy, letting go of perfection and making a mess. And usually I'm right there with you. But ever since I started taking proper care of myself, I've found myself unusually apprehensive when I'd sit down to sketch or doodle. As in, I wouldn't.

In a moment of Ah-ha! I decided to writethis is a safe space to make mistakes in red colored pencil across the top of a page. I needed that little reminder so I could get back to doing what I love.

Except it kinda didn't work. I dove into word art and launched Inspiration Ink and decided that maybe I should play with words for awhile. They were safe. Easier. And fun. They had me staying up late and dreaming of new ideas.

But I wasn't drawing. And I started becoming full of characters just begging to be let out onto that scary white page.

One night, frustrated, I took out my silver marker and wrote this same phrase on the cover of my journal. Shouldn't an art journal be safe? Shouldn't we fill pages and pages with practice and mistakes and bad art?

Fast forward to my little trip. I stayed with an awesome, beautiful, amazing friend who I hadn't seen in at least a year. We got to chatting like no time had passed, and I found myself able to relax and, yes, indulge in some bad TV. I felt like I could stop trying to keep such a tight hold on myself. It was like I could breathe again. Here was something familiar in a time when I've started letting go of the past.

So I took my art supplies out onto the balcony with its beautiful view and got to coloring.

I did a little coloring in my Moleskine (and I'll share that spread next post!) and then grabbed my big sketchbook and Copic markers and started coloring a rough sketch I'd made a week before.

And then I did something we all dread: I messed it up.

(You can see the original message on this page!)

I posted this to Instagram and many people were puzzled -- how is this messed up? they asked.

I didn't blend the hair right. The nose is way too thin. I used the wrong colors for shading. Her neck is a disaster.

I heard all this in my head. And then I heard this:

She still has stuff to teach you.

Even though I'd messed up. Even though I hated parts of it. I could either scribble over it and be upset, or I could keep going and learn from what I did next. Sure a few things were messed up, but that just meant I could let myself go and figure out her ears. Or eyes. Or lips. Or maybe I could try shading some more?

I did note I loved her lips and eyes.

Yes, I feel most proud of her lips. I tried some new things, there, and was happy to see they worked out.

So I kept going. Tried different shading ideas out. Added some more depth to the features I liked. Sure, she isn't polished and perfect like some of the stuff we see on social media, but in messing up and choosing to keep going, I was able to get past a huge block & rediscover the real joy of art - the process of discovery & the depth of our character put out into the world.

Here's what she looks like right now:

And I couldn't be happier.

So if you need it, write it across your page. On the cover of your art journal. Pin it on the wall. And if you ever forget it, you'll find it in big letters across the top of this blog, just in case.

PS. One of the girls I live with actually wrote this in her art journal first, giving me the idea that more people might need the permission to write it.

PPS. If you're ever in Prescott Valley, visit the Blackboard Cafe. Looking back at where this wonderful woman was four years ago & seeing her there now gives us ALL hope that we can make our dreams real. Plus, the food is killer. Seriously. Taste explosion!

Making healthy choices & focusing on healing lead me to my new passion of hand-lettering. It excites me and has me wanting to try more, experiment, and have fun! When I was working on this journal page, I knew I wanted a lot of colors & wanted to play with my Holbien gouache, but had no idea what to doodle or paint or draw.

But then it hit me -- I love words!

I've been writing since I was ten, and have written hundreds of thousands of words in novels, short stories, and articles (and before you ask, a lot of that is fanfiction I've been hiding from you because oh my God, what the heck is that girl doing?). Before I started visual journaling in 2005, I had resigned myself to a life of words, not images. I had tried and tried and just couldn't make good art. So I gave up and refocused my efforts elsewhere.

For me, lettering has been a way to marry these two passions of mine. So as I sat there trying to figure out what to paint, I decided to use the gouache to write thoughts or words.

And then layer them. Over and over again.

I doodled, too. And embraced layering -- you have to cover up some of what you really like to create something you love!

When I paint and listen to music, I get in the flow. That magical creative flow. It's kinda like how you always make it home when you've been caught up in your head while driving. You're just in the flow and the physical part -- that becomes automatic. I often step out of the flow with little idea of what I've been creating. This is where the magic is -- where your subconscious mind gets to talk to you, past filters and critics and urgent-yet-unimportant tasks that take up our days.

Because I'm always looking for content to share with you, I take a lot of pictures. This breaks the flow, sure, but I love the distance it affords me, to see where things are going. It helps me be a little more purposeful with my intentions and direct my efforts. Sometimes, when I share these WIP photos, people see things I missed, and that helps as well!

You know, I've really tried to write up all my feelings on this spread & where they came from, but I think the spread speaks for itself. So I'm just going to share pictures in the hope that someone else will see them and realize they can be happy, too!

]]>April Inspiration Fileart journalSamie KiraTue, 14 Apr 2015 01:45:32 +0000http://journalgirl.com/blog/april-inspiration-file4f3475598754a66da028b5a3:54066c77e4b0132427c7c011:552c713ee4b0b39dd1fa026bWhat I'd like to do more of us share my process. Not just the wip photos on Instagram, but all the little yet fundamental things that go into a file piece or offering that aren't apparent from viewing the final project.

I learned about inspiration files from Mati Rose. When she needed to find imagery for a tutorial we were filming, she pulled out a folder full of stuff...images and colors and scraps, all in one location. It made it easier to find an image that would both work for what she was creating and resonate with her. I loved the idea and have been putting together my own ever since.

So there's a little video of mine this month. I like to clean them out monthly, archiving old ones in zip lock bags after I've moved over stuff I'm still gaga over. Did you catch that gold foil tissue paper? Becca found that at Target. I love it. And it's much cheaper than a Minc.

I've decided I'm all for off the cuff and spontaneous blogging. It's way more fun. Also, go check out Inspiration Inc. I poured my heart into it and would love to hear what you think more than anything else.

Inspiration Ink is the playful name I used to refer to the quotes & affirmations I wrote with brush & ink. It seems fitting that it would be applied to my one-woman mission to help others find hope & inspiration.

I've always loved writing words with a brush. There's something about the way the bristles slide across the paper and the variations of line that make me giddy. There aren't too many techniques that have stayed in my work over the past eight years -- writing out words has happened in nearly every art journal or painting I've created (even if you can't see them).

It started last year, in the summertime. I pulled out giant sheets of newsprint and wrote words quickly across the absorbent surface to give myself a pep talk. These papers surrounded a girl's face to illustrate all the thoughts swirling around in my head.

When everything got to be too much, when I had an intense week of therapy, I pulled out some paper I was gifted for Christmas and got to work writing myself pep talks.

After writing everything quickly, I found myself hyper-focused on each letter, each stroke of the brush. The world melted away -- more importantly, the anxiety I'd been feeling for over a week began to subside, giving me the relief I'd been craving.

If you follow my blog, you know about my breakdown & week spent in the hospital.

Originally, I was fearful of talking about it. I gave an overview of my January, but haven't really posted about it since then. It was such a short time but a major point in my life. It was when the depression almost won.

And hell if I wasn't going to help someone else to feel less sad, alone, or ashamed. As I thought of this project, I knew I had to be honest in sharing the why.

I have been diagnosed with depression and general anxiety disorder, in addition to my fibromyalgia, arthritis, and food sensitivities that make eating out a huge deal. I love my life, don't get me wrong, but days can be difficult. My emotions swirl all over the place, or my body decides it's not going to cooperate. Nothing is scheduled, meaning I need to adapt to each morning's gifts. I could have an awesome day and be on top of the world, then have a terrible one where I'm holding on with all I have and find inspirational quotes like a climber searching for footholds.

Going to therapy and group sessions have helped me so much, and allowed me to learn great coping skills. I began collecting inspiring quotes on my phone to help me battle the lies of depression. I turned to art to color and draw, but my anxiety kept me from truly enjoying myself. So one night, I pulled out my brush and ink and started writing out those quotes I'd collected. I found myself relaxing as I worked, word by word, the relaxing swish of the brush over paper. This is where I could find peace, mindfulness, and calm. Where I could find comfort and be uplifted.

And then I thought, wouldn't there be others looking for the same thing?

A Call to Action

It's an amazing feeling when someone loves what you've created. And even more so, when your work resonates. That's the magic space, when a person looks at artwork you've made and see new things you never noticed.

The original ink quotes, done on large sheets of kraft paper, are hanging above the couch. Several test prints have been given away to friends and group members. Each time, I've watched them read the quote and smile or nod.

I never thought my little meditation practice would touch so many people.

Sharing the Good

I know I'm not the only one dealing with depression and anxiety. Not the only one battling negative thoughts or worrying over every little thing. So many of you have shared your stories with me over the years, and I treasure each one.

We all need a little pep talk now and again. Need a positive thought to remind us how awesome we are. That our dreams are valid and within our reach. That this moment won't last forever - treasure the good and learn from the bad. I know having these quotes hanging around me helps ground me.

And when things get to be too much, you can find me at my desk with a brush in my hand, music blasting, phone full of quotes next to me.

Join In & Grab Your Prints!

Every month, I'll be releasing a set of ink-written quotes in both colorful 8"x10" prints and 11"x17" posters.

This project has gotten under my skin in a way I've never really felt before; I often stay up late to practice more lettering or plan things out. My mind is full of new ideas and I often run off to try them out!

In addition to the monthly release, I've created the Inspiration Ink monthly club, where you get hi-res printable files and a super special newsletter complete with essays, photos, and tutorials, plus various updates as I continue to expand on this simple idea. You kinda become VIPs & part of the story.

I'll also be sharing a monthly wallpaper, and anything else I can think of!

April Wallpaper!

Click the image below to see the full-screen version, then save it to your computer or device. Left is widescreen, right is sized for an iPhone 5 (but can probably be used on other screens!). Can you think of what was on my mind during this pep talk? ;)

]]>Introducing Inspiration Ink!an update from the fieldart journalfinding herSamie KiraTue, 31 Mar 2015 17:23:48 +0000http://journalgirl.com/blog/an-update-from-the-field4f3475598754a66da028b5a3:54066c77e4b0132427c7c011:551ad82ce4b07ff53310ef0dI thought I'd share with you some of the things I've been working on.

I wish I could say the lack of posts/images/social media there-ness was because I wasn't doing anything, but the opposite is what's happened -- I'm busy all over the place and grabbing whatever creativity time I can! I'll draw and color in doctor's waiting rooms or in a long line at the drug store drive-up. My markers travel with me in their snazzy new case so I can color whenever I have some spare time between errands. My ink and brush come out when I have a free hour at home. There are so many ideas in my head, just not enough time to get them down!

I'm sure this is true for a lot of you, too! Life seems to swirl around us, consume us like a tornado - we become caught and pulled along, landing far away from where we started. I think this is just how it is (I'm remiss to say normal as I'm learning there's no such thing and I don't want to live life striving for something that doesn't exist!). Life is life.

Something I am learning is how important it is to strike out on your own journey. After writing my last post, I got to thinking about my year so far -- how it started with a car accident on New Year's Day and spiraled out of control after that. I was recently spoiled with Chipotle and got a cup with Neil Gaiman's two-minute story. He writes about refugees in the world, and how, one day, their lives simply and irrevocably changed.

This had me thinking about my own life, and how it, too, was dramatically and significantly changed within a week. My entire landscape changed and I was drifting along as best I could. Sometimes I didn't know where I'd go, and when you're dealing with anxiety, well...it wasn't too good in my head there for awhile.

The story, though, speaks about how we need to be a family -- all of us. And how we need people who will take us in and help us and love us, and damn if I'm not lucky to have had that happen to me.

But there is something big I've learned from this. It's this: when we walk our authentic and true path towards the light, the universe wells up to help us glide along to bigger and better things.

Is life super awesome and shiny? No. But I can see how little changes and decisions snowball into awesome things. The seed planted, when watered, will bloom. It all requires two things: patience & faith. If you have those, you're golden. If you have friends who are straight with you, you're platinum.

Anyway, now that my new-to-me laptop has a proper amount of RAM in it, I'll be back to creating collage sheets and videos. In fact, this week is about getting the next Heart to Art posted & some a la carte mini video lessons filmed. So this is the perfect time to tell me how I can help you along your own journey -- is there a story I should tell, or journals to show, or images to share? Let me know!

Now to the pictures!

I'm working on getting these up in my Etsy shop as 11"x17" prints! Yep - I can go bigger, now! Which one do you like?

That page on the left is for testing how colors will look next to each other, and how the shadows, done with grey, will look over the colors. Moleskine paper isn't the best thing for Copic markers!

I'm back to doodling in my Moleskine again. I decided to use the reference images I've collected on Pinterest and do some doodling. It turned into so much more than that. I had so much fun coloring her in and want to keep drawing. But seeing how well she turned out makes me nervous -- like I have to live up to this each time I draw. Do you ever feel like that? I think it's the perfectionist in most of us. I just have to remember that the only way to make more like this is to make more period. So I'll be trying to do one a day. We'll see how it goes.

People say it to me all the time these days. "You're on your own journey." "Make your own way." "Don't worry, things will happen for you!"

And it's hard, in our instant-gratification/social-media world, to wait your turn. We see the pretty parts, the cultivated cream of the crop of life, that success seems to come easily or overnight. I've had those moments. Each one of them took a lot of hard work behind the scenes, hours and hours of work or brainstorming or learning.

Coming back to social media, and the internet in general, after a long time away is hard. You see people chatting with each other, or sending care packages and wonder why not me? Which is pretty self-centered, sure! Perhaps it's more I see the total and complete way my life has changed & have taken to sailing my own ship -- always chasing the horizon, sails like dots, dark shadows against a brilliant sun -- and expect people to notice.

But that's the thing about starting on your own journey. People aren't. You just have to have enough faith to go headlong into that uncharted territory and know you'll run into others. Take to the currents of your own dream and allow life to flow.

On Sunday morning, before church, I suddenly had the urge to paint some paper stars I'd prepped way back in the beginning of December. I don't know why, only that, after months of not creating much, I had a fire burning within me again. I went back to those colors I love and got my hands dirty by smudging paint. Time flew.

That evening, after getting home and changing and eating dinner, I finished them off with glitter and hung them up on my chandelier to dry. And there they stay, a tangible reminder of my dreams and that they can be reached. I just had a little bit of a setback is all.

This week, I'm renting some space in a local shop to sell my paintings & whatever else I come up with. This is a HUGE step for me and I'm curating my stack of finished work for the best I can present.

Everyone who walks into the house & sees my studio can't help but smile. It makes people feel happy and there have been some giggles. I'm taking that as a good sign -- that's exactly what an art space should be!

]]>Anatomy of a Page: Grateful Heartart journalSamie KiraTue, 03 Mar 2015 21:15:29 +0000http://journalgirl.com/blog/anatomy-of-a-page-grateful-heart4f3475598754a66da028b5a3:54066c77e4b0132427c7c011:54f62477e4b0ca119e14e7bdBack when I was publishing my own art journaling 'zine, I had a feature called Anatomy of a Page. It consisted of me taking photos while working in my art journal to show the process behind the finished page.

I still take LOTS of pictures - my iPhone has over 4,000 photos, most of which are of my artwork in various stages of completion! So I thought I'd bring it back. Not only will it keep me creating every week, but maybe my weekly posts can help YOU!

So here's the first one!

This page underwent a radical change as I worked on it. I was trying to figure out what colors I loved, and what I want to use for a small series of paintings. So I just kept putting down color -- both acrylic and gouache -- until I got to a place I loved...

(Just a little workspace picture to show you what I was using! We spent 5 hours painting on the floor!)

And here's some detail shots of the final page!

This quote is on the fridge at my new home, and it always reminds me that no matter how big things may feel right now, there's beauty in the chaos.